Original subtitles

You know, Bosham village is one of the most beautiful in England.

It's one of the oldest, too.

King Canute's daughter is buried in the churchyard.

That's where I was when this happened.

(Glass clinks)

How did it happen? Your guess is as good as mine.

My car was the only one in the parking lot when I arrived,

and it still is.

Maybe a sea serpent hit it.

Or an irate yachtsman, or the ghost of King Canute.

Excuse me. Is this your car?

- Yes, it is. - I'm most dreadfully sorry.

I always turn my car round here because the high street's so narrow.

I can't imagine how I hit you.

- But you did manage, didn't you? - I'm afraid so.

- Amazing. - Isn't it? With all this space.

I'll pay for any damage. My name is Florence Warshed.

I live at Rose Cottage, Smugglers Lane.

Florence Warshed. Have we met somewhere before?

No, never.

Your face is very familiar.

My name's Simon Templar.

Not... Not the famous Simon Templar?

Guess who?

- Simon! - I'm glad you said that.

- Wonderful to see you. - You too. Joe.

- Hello, sir. - Can I have a room?

- There's always room for you, sir. - And two more martinis.

Every time I see you, you're more beautiful than the last time.

- How do you do it? - Sailing. And martinis.

What brings you to Bosham village?

A, I wanted to get out of London for a few days,

B, I wanted to do some sailing,

and C, I wanted to see you.

- Why didn't you let me know? - I might have changed my mind.

Did you drive down?

Yes, and some sweet old girl bashed in my headlamp.

- What's the best local garage? - Um, Charley Butterworth's.

- Who was this sweet old girl? - A Miss Florence Warshed.

What, again? Kathleen, introduce me.

I've met the most charming people

by trailing the cars Florence has wrecked.

Simon Templar, Commander George Marsh.

How do you do?

- George is Florence's lawyer. - So my interest is practical.

- She offered to pay for the damage? - She was very decent.

- She always is. - I gather she makes a habit of it.

Poor Flo. She and her two sisters are absolute darlings, except in a car,

when they behave like lunatics and I have to clear up their mistakes.

It isn't that they speed,

they're just far too interested in everything and everybody

to look where they're going.

It's just a smashed headlamp.

I'll tell them. I'm dining with them tonight.

- Morning, Commander. - What will you have?

- That's very kind. Pint of bitter. - There.

Thank you.

- How long do I have to wait? - I'm sorry, sir. How can I help?

Can I have a room and a bath for tonight?

- Just for tonight, sir? - I'm not sure yet!

Will you come this way, sir?

- Give you your change in a minute. - That's fine. Have one yourself.

- Who's he, George? - Doesn't look like a yachting type.

He probably paints.

Simon, you must meet the rest of the Warshed sisters.

They're a town institution.

Florence, Violet and Ida.

To Florence, Violet and Ida. Cheers.

I simply adore roast beef.

So does George, when it isn't overcooked.

What's keeping Flo? She was due home at seven and it's nearly half past.

She'll be here.

You know what she's like when she's driving.

Don't worry. Fetch me the salad bowl.

Should we call the police? She's so casual in that car.

The last thing anyone does in this house is phone the police.

I don't...don't know what... whatever made me suggest it.

- It's all right, dear, forget it. - I have.

I've put it right out of my life, as if it had never happened.

It's all right, clear. Cut me some celery.

- Ida. - Yes, dear?

Do you think Flo will ever marry George Marsh?

She can't. If she married him she'd have to tell him the truth.

- So she can't. - Surely dear, after all these years?

- We couldn't risk it. - I suppose you're right.

But it's such a pity.

George is an absolute darling and poor Flo is so fond of him.

Poor Flo is old enough to control herself.

I wish she'd get here. I've a feeling that something's happened to her.

There she is!

- Where have you been? - George“ be here any minute'.!

- Sorry, I couldn't help it. - We were worried!

Did you bring the garlic?

- Where have you been? - I had an accident.

- Again? - It was only a broken headlamp.

- Why worry? - A pound or two.

- No, it's not that. - What?

- What, then? - It's the man who owned the car.

- Who? - Simon Templar.

- The Saint? - Yes. And he recognised me.

- Are you sure? - Oh, dear.

He said that... He said he thought he'd seen me before.

- He wasn't certain? - Not positive, no.

- We can hope, can't we? - It's all we can do.

Go and get dressed. George will be here any minute.

(Knocking)

- Charley Butterworth! - Ladies.

- Oh, Charley, you're drunk. - You should be ashamed of yourself.

Ashamed? When I just become a daddy to three lovely little girls?

- Triplets? - If it's three of 'em, it's triplets!

- How marvellous! - Your poor wife.

Bessie? Like shelling peas.

And do you know what we're going to do?

Because Miss Flo had 17 accidents last year

and brought me in so much business,

we're gonna name our little girls after you three.

That's absolutely f...final! What we're gonna do.

Florence, Violet and Ida. Heh-heh!

- Isn't that sweet? - Darling!

Just wanted to let you know the good news.

Now I must go and celebrate with the boys.

- Well! - Isn't that sweet? Named after us!

- Three little girls. - Adorable.

- Poor Bessie. - Yes, she's alone except for the midwife.

You two take the car and go and see if there's anything we can do.

- Take some fruit and a cheque. - How much?

- A hundred pounds? - No, too much. Makes people curious.

- Better make it 50. - Oh, Flo, you're so wise.

- What about George? - I can look after him and the dinner.

Go on, off you go.

There are three women, all between 50 and 55

and they moved here about ten years ago.

- Are they related? - Excuse me.

Erm, the Warshed sisters moved here ten years ago.

Sisters?

Yes, possibly.

- How do I find them? - Well, it's rather late now.

- Are you a friend of theirs? - Do you know their address?

- You'll find them in the directory. - Thank you, miss.

Thank you very much.

- Peculiar, isn't he? - He's a rum one, no mistake.

Why do you think he's a painter, Simon?

You know, I'm a very serious student of human nature.

(Babies crying)

- Adorable! - Darling!

Shh. We mustn't disturb them, must we?

No, no. Of course.

I'll tell Mrs Butterworth how kind you've been,

but she's just had her sedation.

She's perfectly fine and there's nothing to worry about.

- I'm so glad. - Except Charley, he's boozing.

I can manage Charley. Now, off you go now.

We may call tomorrow.

Only between two and four. We must let Mrs Butterworth get her rest.

- Oh, yes, of course. - Thank you so much.

- You're welcome. - It was nothing, really.

- Bye. - Goodbye.

Goodbye!

What absolute darlings!

(Doorbell)

At last.

Well, it's been a long time.

It's Freddie!

- What are you doing here? - Visiting you.

Put some lights on.

Well, well! Isn't this cosy?

And what a time I've had chasing you three down.

You've no idea, the trouble I've taken.

Ah, this is lovely!

I like reunions, don't you?

Freddie, what is it you want?

Let's get to the point, Freddie.

Alfred, not Freddie. Alfred Powls.

It's rather a nice name, don't you think? Alfred Powls.

Sophisticated, yet solid and respectable.

Like me.

It's fine port, this.

Now that you've drunk it, you can go.

Freddie, either get to the point or get out. We want to go to bed.

- I think we should call the police. - But...

Go ahead. Call them.

- What do you want? Money? - Of course.

- How much? - Well, I haven't decided.

For a start, say, er... £50?

- We haven't got that much here. - Tomorrow will do.

- Tomorrow's Sunday. - And the banks are closed.

Someone around here will cash a cheque.

You're well known and your credit's good.

Flo, it won't stop at 50.

- No. - (Freddie) No, it won't.

You see, I have expensive tastes.

And a yearning for peace, in a quiet little spot by the sea,

like this one.

Are houses very expensive round here?

- Flo, there'll be none of that! - Have you a better idea?

Please, don't quarrel over me, I'm not hard to please.

A small cottage will do,

a reasonable income, say £2,000 a year,

a little car - nothing flashy - and a housekeeper.

I see myself in the role of retired gentleman.

With three, dear, gracious ladies nearby,

who are old friends.

Charming friends.

It's a pleasant prospect, don't you think?

- Freddie... - Alfred, please.

- Alfred, we can't afford it. - You dirty rat!

- Ida... - Well, he is!

You dirty blackmailer! I'd like to see you floating in the harbour!

Thank you, Miss Jean Benson, for those kind words.

- Ida, calm down. - Calm down?

While this dirty monster threatens to tell everyone the truth? Lose our homes?

You despicable pig!

I won't forget that.

You've just added £1,000 to the cost of my house.

And don't forget my 50. I'll call for it at noon tomorrow.

Good night, Miss Edith Cooper.

And to you, Miss Ethel Scott.

Oh!

- Don't cry, dear, he isn't worth it. - But what are we going to do?

Let's sell out and go to Switzerland or somewhere.

Oh, yes, first thing in the morning.

- No, Violet. - I couldn't face people, Flo.

Please let's run away.

But Violet, we've made a life here, and it's a good one.

We're not young any more.

We can't just go running around the world like frightened rabbits.

No. All we can do is pay.

- That dirty rat? - Ida, let's be sensible.

He wants us to buy him a cottage. Say, £5,000. We can afford that.

Then he wants £2,000 a year. Well, we can afford that, too.

And as long as he sticks to his bargain, we'll stick to ours.

- And if he doesn't? - He won't.

Well, if he doesn't, we must think again.

But in the meantime, don't let's do anything that we might regret.

Come on. Come on, let's go to bed.

I've always been afraid that this would happen,

that one day the past would catch up with us.

- Oh, Ida! - Now, now. Don't worry. Come on.

- Oh, dear. - Come on.

There, there, now.

(Church bells pealing)

Working on a Sunday morning, you ought to be ashamed.

- I have some things to catch up on. - Have you time to catch up on lunch?

Um... Give me five minutes.

Well, even for five minutes, watching other people work

is one of the greatest pleasures of my life.

- You do have others. - Mm-hm?

So do you, thank goodness.

Now, five minutes of work and no talking.

You know, you have a very beautiful and desirable mouth.

I'll watch that. Or maybe I'll watch the freckle on the end of your nose.

- Oh, shut up, Simon. - (Door opens)

Excuse me.

I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for a house.

Well, it is Sunday. I'm afraid we're closed.

- Unless... - You go ahead. Don't mind me.

- Would you like to sit down? - Thank you.

- A house or cottage, to rent or buy? - Er, just a cottage, to buy.

What's your price range?

About £5,000. I don't want a big place. I'm retired.

- From what? - My business.

I'd like to look at something today if I could.

This might interest you.

Harbour Cottage. It has three bedrooms, a bathroom,

kitchen, living room and dining room, and a very pretty garden.

4,150.

Or here's one. Lookout Cottage in Smugglers Lane.

Smugglers Lane? Near the Warsheds?

Yes, just down the road from them.

- Little above your price. 5,600. - No, I like it.

The odd 600 won't bother me if it's really nice.

When could I look over it?

Maybe this afternoon.

Erm, can you give me your name?

Powls. Alfred Powls.

Did you get in touch with the Warsheds last night?

Yes, we had quite a pleasant reunion. I knew them years ago.

May I use them as a reference, then?

Yes, of course. I'm sure they'll vouch for me.

Thank you, Mr Powls. I'll leave a message about Lookout Cottage.

- I hope you'll like it. - I think I'll like it very much.

- Thank you, and good day. - Good day.

I wonder where he knew the Warshed sisters?

- Where did they come from? - I don't know, actually.

They're such a town fixture I've never thought about it.

- Have you an envelope for these? - Yes, why?

- Can I have one? - Yes, but I don't understand.

Thanks.

Why, Aunt Flo. How lovely to see you!

Thank you, dear. Good morning, Mr Templar.

- Miss Warshed. - Is your car all right now?

- Will be once Charley sobers up. - He's an excellent mechanic.

After all, one doesn't have triplets every clay.

Thank goodness.

Kathleen, clear, don't you sometimes collect a lot of rents on a Saturday?

- Yes, sometimes. Why? - I thought you might do me a favour.

Ida's got the chance of buying a lovely Regency commode,

but the people want cash and of course all the banks are shut.

- Yes, of course. How much? - £50, I'm afraid.

I haven't got that much.

- I can. - Oh, I wouldn't dream of asking.

I won't run short.

Oh, thank you.

By the way, do you know a Mr Alfred Powls?

Yes. Yes, he's a friend of Ida's.

Oh, dear.

Mr Templar, I'm afraid you're going to have to lend me your p...

Oh! Thank you so much.

(Door opens)

' (ma) Flo! _ Mm?

- We're off to Charley Butterworth's. - The nurse said after two.

But this is for Charley. Chicken and ham. Poor man must eat.

Judging by the celebration, I doubt if Charley will be hungry.

Oh, some are and some aren't. When I got sloshed I could always eat.

Ida, please!

(Car pulls up)

- Somebody's coming. - It'll be Powls. Go out the back.

- That's a very good idea! - Go on, go on!

- Bye-bye, Flo. - It's George!

- George? But Powls is due any moment! - (Violet) Oh, dear!

- Supposing they meet? - We must stop George.

(George) Stop me from what?

- Morning, girls! - Morning, George.

- Stop me from what? - Oh, nothing.

Excuse us, we're off to Charley Butterworth's.

- W-w-we must fly. - We'll see you later.

Good... Goodbye, George.

Goodbye.

Well, what am I to be stopped from doing?

Proposing again? Have my attentions suddenly become so embarrassing?

- Of course not, George. - Then what is it?

Ida and Violet shot out like a couple of guided missiles!

Well, they're... They're in a hurry.

- Flo...what's the matter? - Nothing.

- Perhaps I could help? - It's nothing, George, honestly.

Please don't worry.

I may be a fool, but I love you. I know damn well something's wrong.

And, as your friend, and certainly as your lawyer for ten years, I think...

There is nothing wrong and nothing I need any help with.

I'm sorry. I don't believe you.

Oh, will you please stop pestering me?

(Doorbell)

I'm... I'm sorry, George, I... I didn't mean...

- (Doorbell) - Excuse me.

Good morning, Mr Price.

How kind of you to call. That tap simply won't stop dripping.

Plunk, plunk, plunk all night long. It's driving us all mad.

There's somebody in the sitting room, my lawyer.

I couldn't let him see you, he's suspicious.

If he stays suspicious, your game's up.

And yours.

Where's the money?

What's the matter?

Well, I've left it in the sitting room.

- Well, get it. - But what can I say?

I'm supposed to be the plumber, so you're paying me!

Or do you want me to get it?

No. No, you'd better wait here.

- Who is it? - The plumber. We've got a leaky tap.

The plumber? On a Sunday?

Yes, he... He's awfully obliging.

Mm! Nice new fivers. Thank you.

You're welcome.

I'll need some more in a day or two.

By the way, I'm looking at a house that's for sale.

£5,600.

Not here, in the village?

Even better. Just up the road.

Lookout Cottage.

I've only seen it from the outside, but I think you'll like it.

Freddie, please, you don't need to live round here.

I like to be near my friends.

You must go now. I can't keep Commander Marsh waiting.

OK, but if I like this house, I'm going to buy it.

So you'd better have a cheque for £6,000 for me in a day or so.

- What? - There'll be legal fees, duty.

- 6,000 should cover it. - All right, but please go now.

No! Not that way. Out the back way.

Oh, tradesman's entrance? That's apt, too.

See you.

I'm sorry I was so long, George. All we needed was a new washer.

You call in a plumber to replace a washer on Sunday?

I told you, he's very cooperative.

Obliging was the word you used.

- George, I believe you're jealous. - It is possible.

Anyone would think I had a lover.

- Well, have you? - Don't be ridiculous.

Then what was in the envelope you came back for?

Oh, that was just my cheque in payment of his last bill.

Oh, how unusual for you. You always pay your bills so promptly.

Flo, why are you lying to me?

I am not lying to you, and I resent being questioned in my own house.

You're not in a courtroom now. Please go away!

- You don't have to shout. - All right.

But you keep on at me. Just go away and leave me alone!

Well, if that's what you want.

Yes, George. That is what I want.

Right.

But Flo, if somebody is bothering you, anybody at all,

if I find out who it is I'll break his neck.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, George.

Telegram, Mr Templar.

Thank you.

Any reply, sir?

No, thank you. In this case, no reply is necessary.

Thank you, sir.

How's the house-hunting going, Mr Powls?

Oh, very well, thank you. Waiter, double brandy, please.

Did you inspect Lookout Cottage?

Yes, it's charming.

- Going to buy it? - I think so.

- Bit large for one person, isn't it? - I like plenty of room.

What made you decide to live in Bosham village?

Well, I'm fond of boating, and I like Sussex.

How interesting.

Seven shillings, please, sir.

- Have you nothing less than a fiver? - No, I'm sorry.

Allow me.

- Thank you. - Thank you very much, sir.

- You're welcome. - Seven shillings out of a pound, sir.

- Well, well, well. - Something wrong?

Yes, the serial number on your fiver.

It's consecutive to the ones in my wallet.

- Really? - Yes. That deserves an explanation.

Take your hand off my arm!

Who do you think you're pushing around?

Why don't you call the police?

Remember those photographs you handled this morning?

I hired a car and sent them to a friend at Scotland Yard

to be checked for prints.

- He just sent me a telegram. - All right. So I've served time.

I'm not wanted for anything now.

Not yet, you're not.

But you've been a busy boy in the past, haven't you, Freddie Weekes?

Alias Frederick Walsh, alias Frederick Powls,

currently known as Alfred Powls.

Fraud, three years, 1940. Fraud, seven years, 1953,

and now you've dug something up on the Warshed sisters.

I don't know what you mean.

Blackmail, the filthiest crime in the book!

I'm not blackmailing anybody, I give you my word!

You can start by giving me your wallet.

- Why? - Because I want it.

- What for? - The fiver I changed downstairs

was one of ten I gave Florence Warshed.

I want to see the rest!

Still waiting for the wallet.

I thought so.

- She cashed a cheque for me earlier. - I just uncashed it.

You can start packing, Freddie, you're leaving town.

Listen, Templar, this is a gold mine.

The Warshed girls aren't sisters at all! 19 years ago...

You listen to me, Freddie.

You needn't start emptying your garbage-pail mind for my benefit!

Whatever the Warshed girls did they've lived down

and I don't want the dirty details.

They're loved in this town, and they're happy here.

And no dirty-minded little creep is going to blackmail them, understand?

- I don't... - Do you understand?

Yes!

NOW pack!

If you're in town by midday tomorrow I'll give you another cha-cha lesson!

The breakages are on me!

Simon, how could you possibly have known he'd been in prison?

My sixth sense about the ungodly.

I'd never have guessed in a million years.

A convict could pass himself off as a Bible salesman in this town

and nobody would ask him to name the four gospels.

What do you suppose he's got on the Warshed sisters?

- I don't know and I don't care. Do you? - Of course not.

- They've lived it down, don't you agree? - Completely.

Good morning, Freddie.

- On your way? - Yes.

Good, I can go sailing with a relaxed mind.

- Meet me for dinner? - I'd love to.

£10,000 and I'll leave you alone for good.

- We'd have to sell securities! - That takes time!

Talk to your banker, but get it. I'll be out of here by tomorrow night.

- Why? - Never mind why, just get it!

- Oh, and I'll need a bedroom. - You're going to sleep here?

- Yes, I am! - But we haven't got a spare bedroom.

- You can move in with her. - But, Freddie!

It's the bed I want, not you!

And as I won't be leaving the house,

get me two bottles of whisky and some cigarettes.

(Doorbell)

- Are you expecting anybody? - No, but people often drop in.

Well, whoever it is, get rid of them!

- Good morning, Aunt Flo. - Kathleen, we're busy.

You said we could discuss the decorations for the bazaar.

We're turning out the kitchen. I can't ask you in.

Some other time, dear.

Hello, Joe? This is Florence Warshed.

Good morning. What can I do for you?

Could you send up two bottles of whisky, please?

Whisky? Well, of course, Miss Warshed. Any particular brand?

Er... Oh, no, I don't care. Any brand you like.

And a hundred cigarettes, please.

Right you are. It'll be up in an hour.

Thank you very much, Joe.

Simon, I just don't understand it. Flo is such a darling.

Usually she has all the time in the world for everyone and everything.

And the bazaar, that's just about the most important event in her calendar.

In fact, the sisters are the bazaar.

- She just shut the door in your face? - Yes, she seemed so strange.

It's been bothering me all day.

Did you get a glimpse of friend Powls, by any chance?

No.

I'll pay them a visit. Otherwise it'll be bothering me all night.

- Wait for me here, hm? - OK.

Edith!

Edith!

Edith!

Freddie! You'll wake the entire neighbourhood!

- It's only ten o'clock. - What do you want?

This is empty. I want a drink.

You've had two bottles. All that's left is some sherry.

- Where is it? - In the cupboard in the sitting room.

Right!

(Yells)

- Freddie? - What happened?

- Well, he fell. - But how?

Well, he tripped.

- He's dead. - No.

He can't be!

He is. I think he must have broken his neck.

Flo, what are we going to do?

He can't be dead just falling down the stairs.

I tell you, he is.

Who will believe us when we say he fell down the stairs?

Who will believe us when they know the real reason he came here?

Ho? What can we do?

(Doorbell)

Find out who it is.

(Ringing continues)

- Who is it? - Simon Templar.

It's Simon Templar!

He'd better come in. He'll know what to do.

- But... - Go on!

Miss Warshed, I'm sorry to come...

- How did it happen? - He fell.

- He was intoxicated. - It was an accident.

You see, he was blackmailing us.

- A long time ago... - I knew he was blackmailing you.

He said he'd leave us alone if we gave him £10,000.

We couldn't get it straightaway,

so he said he was going to stay here until we did get it.

Then he got very drunk. Two bottles of whisky since before lunch.

And he fell down the stairs.

I give you my word of honour, it was accidental.

I believe you. But now, whatever Powls was blackmailing you for

will be public property.

That's our problem. To keep the story from getting out.

But how?

Well, we must think of another reason for him being here.

Yes, he came to rob you.

You heard a crash, found him dead. You called the police.

- Will it work? - We'll make it work. Get his jacket.

- Are his things upstairs? - Yes.

- Pack them and bring me his shoes. - Very well.

Put those down there. I'll get the jacket and tie on him in a minute.

Look, this is just a precaution. He walked upstairs in his muddy shoes

but didn't walk down.

- Where's your jewellery? - In that room.

- Come with me, will you? - Yes.

Stuff this jewellery in his jacket pocket.

- Oh, no. I think I'm going to faint. - Don't you dare.

There isn't time. Get rid of the cigarette ends and wash the ashtrays.

You, ma'am, wipe down all the furniture.

When I've got him dressed, I'll take his suitcase to the pier and dump it.

Then I'll stop by later, as if I just happened to be passing by.

When I've gone, I want you to call the police and George Marsh.

- George? - Yes, Ho.

Because if this doesn't work, you're really going to need a lawyer.

Seems open and shut, this one, sir.

Uses his friendship to case the layout, breaks in, steals the jewellery,

starts down the stairs, slips, falls down, breaks neck.

Not surprising either, sir. He certainly stank of drink.

Yes. You'll let me know about the inquest, won't you?

- I certainly will, sir. Good night, sir. - Good night.

Good night, Mr Templar. Thank you for your help.

It's been my pleasure. Good night, Sergeant.

- Anything else I can do? - Yes.

You can talk.

Are you coming?

And now, ladies, as your lawyer and your very good friend,

I'd like the truth, please.

- The truth? - Yes, Ho.

Joe Tracey told me that you'd telephoned him

and ordered two bottles of Scotch and a hundred cigarettes.

Now, since you don't drink whisky or smoke,

- I'd like to know why. - Oh dear.

- Commander... - Just a minute, I'd like Flo to answer.

George, l...l can't.

Powls wasn't even a friend of yours, was he?

No. He was blackmailing us.

Blackmailing you? But... But why?

Three gentle ladies?

Commander, allow me.

Ethel Scott,

Edith Cooper,

Jean Benson.

You knew?

Yes. The day you smashed my headlamp, I knew your face rang a bell.

I remembered. Two years ago, I did some research on art thefts.

Look, will somebody explain all this to me?

Tell him, Flo.

Might as well.

Well, 17 years ago there was a Delacroix cartoon stolen from the National Gallery.

- It was called An Arab Praying. - We stole it.

- You... You what? - Stole it.

Oh, look. Am I supposed to take this sort of thing seriously?

Oh, yes. It's quite true.

- We were a team. - It was a jolly good job, actually.

Quite easy. I don't wonder they got away with the Goya.

You see, George, I worked there.

You worked at the National Gallery?

Yes. As a secretary.

And I was secretary to the head of the firm

who supplied the National Gallery with burglar alarms.

- And I worked with an art dealer. - So it all fitted in. Most exciting.

- Especially the burglar alarms bit. - You wouldn't cut it.

I was terrified I'd get a shock.

- You were terrified? - Sh!

Anyway. The cartoon was in the gallery workshop being cleaned.

And we stole it.

You are asking me to believe that you three are...burglars?

- Yes, George. - Only once.

- Oh, we're not professionals. - Just successful.

After we stole it, Ida got in touch with a terribly rich collector.

- An American. - From Texas.

He paid us $300,000 for it.

- And it was a bargain. - Oh, I know.

I typed the insurance form. It was worth twice that.

- And you kept the money? - Oh, yes.

That's how we live so well.

- And help people. - Exactly.

- Of course, they got the cartoon back. - (Violet) When the man died.

The FBI found it in his home in Texas.

They sent it back to the National Gallery.

So everyone was happy.

You see, George, we were caught.

- You were caught? - Yes.

They didn't get the money but they got us.

We were taken to Holloway prison.

- For ten years. - With time off for good behaviour.

And then we came here and settled down.

What gave you the idea of stealing the cartoon?

- That was where Freddie came in. - It was his idea.

- We helped him. - And gave him his share of the loot.

- But he spent it. - And then he started to look for us.

- (Violet) And found us. - And blackmailed you.

Yes.

George, we have tried to help people with the money.

And on my word of honour, we've never stolen anything since.

- Never. - And we have paid our debt to society.

- (Violet) For stealing the picture. - And George,

- I swear we didn't kill Powls. - No. It was an accident.

He was intoxicated and fell down the stairs.

Commander Marsh, I think it's obvious that no crime has been committed here.

- No, there hasn't, George. - Do you believe us?

You... You won't tell on us, will you?

I most certainly will.

- (All) George! - Commander!

- You can't mean it? - I'm turning you three over to the police.

Commander, can't you just forget the incident?

- And be fair? - And generous?

And sympathetic?

All right. I'm prepared to forget the incident.

On one condition.

(r Mendelssohn: Wedding March)

Ladies and gentlemen, a toast!

A toast to the beautiful bride and the handsome groom. God bless them both!

Hear, hear!

- Have I blackmailed you into this? - No, darling.

Honestly.

Come on, let's go and do some of that ourselves, hm?